When there's no one to lean on
by The Bella Cat
Summary: He's doing okay. He really is. But he's still missing something. Something important.


**Okay, so I wrote a _Bates Motel_ Dylemma fic. It's super introspective and I tried to see if I could kinda get inside Dylan's mind about a lot of issues in his life including Caleb and Norma. This takes place a little while after Emma drops the plants up at the cabin. I don't own anything ... come on why would I?**

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So he's doing okay. For the first time in years he's _really_ doing okay. He's self-employed, he runs a business and he's good at it. And that _means_ something. It _really_ does. Even if what he's doing is only _just_ this side of legal, even if it's not the kind of thing mothers dream about their sons doing for a living, even if it's not the career he would have chosen for himself, it's still okay.

Yes, he knows he sells it as medical marijuana and that most of his clientele aren't exactly looking for pain relief. Or maybe, on second thought, they are. Maybe in their own way everyone is. And there are lots of different types of pain. He knows all about that. He doesn't judge.

And he has the cabin and the land and Gunner's there. And he's probably getting on better with Norma than he ever has. And that means something too. That _really_ means something. He doubts it'll last. It never does. But for now, for now, just knowing she's there and she doesn't actively hate him makes things a little brighter. No it's not all water under the bridge. It can't be. Forgiveness takes time and Norma, well Norma is difficult and maybe he's not quite ready to let go of everything just yet. But for the first time in forever he thinks he could think about it.

The rage that used to boil up in his chest is now more of a slow simmer. Yes he's angry, yes it's tough, but it's not _that_ tough. It's not as tough as it once was. He finds he can at least imagine letting go of all the hurt and all the pain and moving forward. The thought doesn't make him want to puke and throw things anymore. It doesn't feel like he's denying who he is just to think it, consider it. He's realised the only betrayal is not being honest with himself and, with that in mind, he realises how important it is to entertain the possibility that he can find it inside him not only to forgive Norma, but to move towards actually loving her and trusting her. Maybe not today. But sooner rather than later. Or even just later. The point is that's where he feels he's headed and he doesn't feel the need to put up much if a fight.

It could happen.

A lot of things could happen.

So things are mostly good.

Mostly.

Caleb _is_ a problem and one he's not sure how to deal with. He recognises the why of it. The armchair psychology behind it. He knows a shrink would tell him he's looking for a father figure. Shrink would tell him he's looking in the wrong places too. Shrink would be right. But he's not sure how to deal with it and he knows he's taking a chance. He knows wanting it all often results in getting nothing.

And speaking of wanting it all, there is also something else missing. He has the work, the cabin and some kind of family, horrifically twisted at it may be. But the truth is he's lonely. Even with Gunner and Caleb, this newfound closeness with Norma and Norman. He's lonely.

Lonely for someone, someone outside this. Someone to share with.

It's not sexual, well not entirely. Sex is nice, but this isn't quite what he means. Maybe he's not actually looking for a girlfriend. A friend maybe? A friend is good. Not _exactly_ what he wants either, but good. He wonders if there's a word for halfway between friend and lover, because that's kind of the general area he's looking in right now.

Caleb tells him he needs a good woman, but he doesn't trust any damn thing Caleb says about women. And considering the past, talking about this kind of stuff with him just feels like something very wrong in a sea of Very Wrong Things.

It's not that he's forgiven Caleb. Forgiveness is not even the right word here. It's not really even on the table. But sometimes if he squints really hard and narrows his focus he can see the progression in Caleb's descent into what he is, what he became. And Dylan knows what it's like to have parents who fucked you up.

But that in itself is a problem.

Because the truth is while Norma wasn't going to win any "mother of the year" competitions when it came to raising him, he's _not_ Caleb. He's _not_. And sure, maybe there was a time when he was very young that they were close and maybe she remembers, but he doesn't. And well, John Massett who may or may not have known he wasn't Dylan's father didn't really seem to feel much paternal affection one way or another. And Sam Bates was something else altogether. And yeah, he's pretty used to being ignored and rejected and passed over. Knows what it's like to not be wanted, to be something of a punching bag, emotional or otherwise.

And yes, he knows he's a little messed up and he knows he has issues and he knows that imaginary shrink would have a field day inside his head. But despite all of this, despite the fact that he likely doesn't have one good gene in his body, he's not Caleb. He's not violent. He's not abusive. And he tries very hard not to be a jerk. And most of the time he succeeds. Most of it. So he can see Caleb's progression, his downfall. And maybe when he does all that hard squinting and narrow focusing and concentrates on the fact that Caleb _is_ blood he can muster up the tiniest hint of something that some people - maybe like that non-existent shrink of his - would refer to grudgingly as "sympathy". He's not sure it is though. He's not really sure how he feels.

He knows he got away from it without terrorising anyone, without hurting anyone. And he knows all about cycles of abuse and how easy they are to perpetuate. And he guesses that since he feels like shit over how Norma's parents abused her, he needs to include Caleb in that reasoning too. No kid deserves to be brought up like that.

But no kid deserves what Caleb did to Norma.

There's no excuses here. Maybe a lot idealism and fractured thinking, but no excuses.

And it's at this point things get so horrifying that his brain gets all jumbled and he's not really sure what to do with any of it. He recognises he's not dealing with it well. He recognises this whole Caleb thing is a fuck up. He recognises he's made bad decisions. He even recognises that he's been manipulated and the fact that he's aware of this does add a layer of accountability that he's not really sure how to deal with. And then he wonders if that's not the best manipulation of all. The one when you know it but you're still too freaking unsure to call it out.

And then he just wishes that something in his life was normal. Sure, sure, he'll sing praises about the cabin and the business. Sure that's all great but you know, maybe life wouldn't suck so much if his father wasn't also his uncle and wasn't also a rapist. Maybe it wouldn't suck so much if his mother figured out years ago that he didn't ask to be born and if he'd been sentient enough to understand all this in utero he would have probably tied the cord around his neck himself. And maybe it wouldn't suck so much if his brother was not so incredibly strange and full of secrets and yeah, he'll go there, so goddamned creepy.

So yes, someone outside of this bizarre family he calls his own would be nice. And maybe if she was pretty that would be nice too.

But Jodi was a pretty girl and that wasn't all that nice.

And he didn't exactly open up to her.

He doesn't exactly open up to anyone.

It's kinda fucked up when you realise the closest thing you have to a friend is Gunner. He guesses when you do that squinting thing he does when he thinks about Caleb, Gunner is kind of, sort of, a buddy.

But Gunner is a problem all on his own. Because when he thinks of him, his mind wanders a little. Just a little. Straight to Emma. And Emma's big brown eyes and Emma's pretty auburn hair. Emma and her little pet full of oxygen that she pulls around behind her so she doesn't die. And that's when thoughts about friends outside of the situation known as The Bates Family decidedly venture off into territory of "not just friends who are not quite as far outside The Bates Family as one would like".

And he tries to shake that off. And because it's Emma, he's moderately successful.

And he knows it's odd how he associates Gunner and Emma more than Norman and Emma. Maybe it's because it's easier and feels like less of a betrayal. Maybe it's because he recognises in that fact that for Norman, Emma is transitory. That in no time Norman will be easily distracted by a shorter skirt and a tighter top. And then this thing between them will be over and they'll have to see if there are any pieces left to pick up.

And him? Well let's just say he probably thinks about her a little more than he should. She's a nice little bright go-to place in his head when the general fuckedupness of his family situation gets a bit too much to handle.

And maybe it's bad but it's only for him. And he's not hurting anyone. And God, he'd never tell anyone, and especially not her.

But he'd be lying if he said that didn't make him the tiniest bit sad. Because he thinks he gets her in a way. She's an outsider and not just because of the cystic fibrosis. She's like him, trying so hard to penetrate that bond between Norma and Norman and no, not out of jealousy or a desire to break it, but out of a desperate need to be included, to be part of something. He should tell her to stop wasting her time. Those walls are high and thick. They're not going anywhere. He might have a little niche in one of the battlements, a niche he carved with tears and sweat, but he'll never breach the castle, never truly be invited inside. For now the niche is okay though. He can still see and wave to his family over the towers and sometimes he's asked in for tea. Sometimes.

Regardless he gets Emma and there's something about her that tells him she gets him too.

Misfits.

And he kind of likes that.

Not sure he likes it enough that he wouldn't trade being an outsider, but some things are set in stone and he thinks him sitting on the edges is one of them.

And well, if he could sit on the edges with her maybe that wouldn't be so bad.

She came up to the cabin the other day, her dinky little car full to the brim with his plants. His weed. She surprised him with her complete lack of judgement about that and she surprised him again with the way she handled Caleb. He thinks she has an inkling that something's Not Quite Right. And he hopes she never figures it out. He's not quite sure how he'd deal with her knowing. Not sure at all.

And he liked how proud he felt when she told him the land was all his and he hadn't liked how he hadn't been talking about the view when he agreed it was pretty. And he also hadn't liked how his mind had conjured up an entirely different scenario about what else he wished was his.

If only Norman really knew what he had. If only Norman could see.

And he admits she is one of the reasons he still stays at the house and not up here at the cabin. Yes there are other reasons like not being around Caleb and trying to rebuild some of those bonds with Norma, edging towards maybe perhaps possibly thinking about one day letting it all go. But he looks forward to seeing Emma in that office when he pulls up, watching how her big brown eyes widen and the warm smile that curls the edges of her mouth. And yes, since the day she visited he has wondered what it would be like if she were to plant a kiss on his cheek, maybe welcome him home with a hug. And yes, he has thought about asking her to come for a ride in his truck. Maybe take her down to the beach if the weather is okay (not that the weather is really ever that okay). They could lie in the sun, maybe watch the waves and maybe, just maybe, take her hand in his, kiss her palm once, just once. And she'd smile again, a smile just for him. And then maybe he could feel like things didn't suck quite so much when it came to the people in his life.

It won't happen though. She's with Norman now, however long that might last and he doesn't think he's being too disingenuous when he suspects it won't be long. But even then, he's not sure on the etiquette of falling for your brother's ex ... if that's even what he's doing, which he decidedly is not.

Either way, he does go home, in part, for Emma and he thinks he might just carry on doing it for as long as he can keep all these balls in the air. They have a secret now and while he wishes - honest to God - that secret was not Caleb, it _is_ their secret. And maybe one day they could have more. Maybe one day he'd arrive home and only Emma would be there and he could keep her company while she helps the motel guests. He could bring coffee, something decent, not the shit Norma always keeps brewing. Maybe some chocolate or donuts, something to snack on. And they could just talk. Talk into the night and get to know each other a little better. He really does want to get to know her. Find out why and how someone dealt as raw a deal as her can be so goddamned happy and good and kind all the time. He wants to understand the lens through which she sees the world, what she likes and what she doesn't. What she thinks about at night and where she sees herself in five years. And that's scary because he knows full fucking well that five years is almost half her life gone and that her lungs could give out well before then. And he realises that if he wants to know her secrets - and he does - and if he thinks she's worth knowing - which once again, he does - there isn't all that much time to waste. And he can accept this as nothing more than a friendship because friendships are fucking important. And he's not going to cause trouble or drama. He's already upsetting the balance with Caleb but somehow it seems important to carry a piece of Emma with him even if he doesn't want to think he'll ever need it.

So one night, he does buy coffee and chocolate chip muffins on the way home. He buys for everyone but hopes him and Emma will get to double up because Norma and Norman would be out.

And it's raining hard and Bon Jovi is telling he's got to _Keep the Faith_ on the radio as he pulls into the drive and part of him thinks this was actually a really shitty idea. And the thought that she would want to talk to him seems so ridiculously absurd he's not even sure how it got into his head in the first place. But then she looks up through the office window and she does smile when she sees him walking towards her, and her brown eyes are big and beautiful.

And wouldn't you know? Norma and Norman are out at some theatre production and they _do_ both get two coffees and two muffins. And more importantly they _do_ have some time to chat.

And it's quiet and comfortable and not weird at all. And they don't talk about anything serious. Nothing like Caleb or Norma, or Norman or cystic fibrosis. They don't even talk about weed or the bypass. But they talk. And he finds her favourite colour is teal and her favourite book is _All The Pretty Horses_. She likes procedural dramas and hasn't ever managed to sit through a horror movie. She also really likes mythology and could probably recite _The Illiad_ if he asked.

Which he doesn't.

 _And good choice Dylan because chocolate chip muffins are her favourite and how did he know she takes her coffee with lots of cream and almost no sugar?_

And he's doing all right. He really is by the end of the evening, and the general fuckedupness of The Bates Family situation and all those associated with it, seems manageable. And maybe he'll feel differently in the morning, but for now he's okay and Emma is okay and somehow he's keeping all those balls in the air.

She grins at him as they lock up at 11:30 and he walks with her to her dinky little car. And he thinks it's all worth it. That smile and this night. He doesn't need anything else. Everything is perfect, the stars twinkling like fairy dust and the full moon bathing everything in a silvery glow, just the right level of chill in the air.

He holds the door for her as she moves behind the wheel and adjusts her seatbelt, her pet. And he wishes this could have lasted longer, even though it's late and he's tired.

"It's pretty here too," she says glancing back at the motel, the forests, the way the light dances off puddles and glass.

And he nods without taking his eyes off her and says goodnight, because it is pretty, even if it's not all his.


End file.
